Nothing Good Ever Comes From Meddling With Time
by GreenInsomniaWriter
Summary: Harry was pulled back into the past by a mysterious figure after the death of his parents. He is raised along side Tom Riddle, and will be pulled, inevitably, into a race for power. With Grindlewald and Hitler rising into power, one using the other, Harry and Tom will be unwillingly pulled into the middle of things. Not to mention, Tom has his own plans too. No slash.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All recognizable material from the following text is under the ownership of J. K. Rowling.

Hello. This story will only be two chapters, as this was written as a challenge, and must be under 4,500 words. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Prologue

Hagrid blundered into the Potter home, his large frame not quite fitting through the doorway. The half-giant tried to avoid the pieces of wood strewn across the floor. The once modest cottage was now in shambles. Part of the roof had caved in, and a few windows had been shattered. Hagrid could feel the lingering residue of magic still radiating from the area.

Hagrid drew in a sharp breath as he saw the limp body of James on the floor. He was dead. Hagrid let the realization wash over him before mentally berating himself. He was here to get Harry Potter, not grieve James; it was Dumbledore's orders. With great difficulty, Hagrid started towards where he knew Harry's nursery was. The half-giant tried to brace himself for whatever horrible scene he would soon see. Whatever he anticipated, it was not this.

A cloaked figure stood inside the nursery. Hagrid could not see much of the intruder's face, as a dark blue hood shrouded his features, and the darkening sky only seemed to encourage his anonymousness.

"Hey! Wha' are yeh doin'?" Hagrid shouted at the nameless wizard. "Yeh shouldn' be in here! An' put Harry down! Wha' are yeh doing with 'im? Put Harry down!" The great oaf swiped at the figure, but missed. Before Hagrid could do anything else, the wizard waved his free hand. A dark green ring flashed dimly, and the wizard disappeared into a cloud of golden sparks, Harry with him.

Hagrid stared at the now unoccupied spot where the wizard had once stood. How would he explain this to Dumbledore?

* * *

"Do you hear that, ma'am?" said Martha politely. The matron of Wool's Orphanage, Mrs. Cole, stopped sweeping.

"Hear what, girl?" Mrs. Cole spat. The graying woman centered her dark beady eyes on Martha.

The girl fidgeted. She had just gotten her current job at Wool's Orphanage, and Mrs. Cole never seemed to stop finding mistakes in her actions. Even the most minor faults Martha made were criticized. Because Martha had younger siblings to care for at home, she couldn't afford to lose this job. With the war going on, poverty, famine, and death was common, and Martha needed every penny should could get to put food on the table. Just a month ago, her mother had been gotten a severe case of pneumonia, and had passed away. That left Martha, the eldest child, alone to support her younger siblings. Because of this, she gravely needed the income that this job would pay. However, that did not mean she would let Mrs. Cole bully her.

In her most confident tone, Martha said, "I think that there's –" Martha was cut off by the sound of a wail outside the orphanage. "Oh! There's a baby outside!"

"Well then, go get it, lass," snapped Mrs. Cole. "I'm not paying you to stand around and daydream."

Martha nodded and sped outside, undoubtedly relieved to be spared from the presence of her employer. "Nasty old bat," grumbled Martha under her breath as she stepped outside. She shivered in the chilly autumn breeze. Martha was now staring at a squirming bundle on the doorsteps.

Martha bent downwards and gently picked up the abandoned baby in her arms. Silently, she marveled at how such an adorable looking child was deserted on the steps of an orphanage. Brushing the child's tuff of hair away from his forehead, Martha frowned; a lightning shaped scare was cut into the child's forehead, and it looked rather deep too.

"Let's get you out of the cold, now shall we? And then I'll clean up that cut of yours. It'll heal in a jiffy," Martha cooed at the baby. Martha stepped inside with the child and quickly closed the door.

Martha quickly went about cleaning up the cut on the child's forehead in the nursery. She removed the blanket that wrapped the baby boy, and was surprised to find that a name was embroidered on the hem of the blanket.

"Harry," Martha read. "So Harry's your name." The baby – Harry – gurgled in a yes.

After the child was properly taken care of, Martha made way towards the cradle that held Tom Riddle in it. The boys looked quite similar, Martha decided, and she then put Harry in with Tom. She watched the boy's reactions. Tom, a usually quiet child, quickly latched on to Harry, brushing his hand against his cut. Harry, in turn, nestled himself into Tom. Martha smiled. Good. She would raise the boys together, as brothers. Even if they were alone in these troubling times, at least they would have one another.


End file.
